Page 94 of The Best I Never Had

Maria and Gary Fischer are the type of foster parents the system always hopes for. Kind and loving, in it for all the right reasons. While they are nowhere near wealthy, they both have jobs and don’t treat the kids they foster like a paycheck or unpaid labor around the house. In the six months we lived with them, they never raised a hand to me, even through our worst arguments. And even they—the archetypes for the perfect foster parents—couldn’t bring themselves to put up with me.

Maria shifts on her feet. “You look well, Thea.”

This is only the second time I’ve spoken to Maria since I left her home at eight years old. When Addy was reassigned to them a few weeks after I aged out, I came to the house to ask permission to spend time with Addy. I got a forty-five-minute lecture about how this was a chance for Addy and that I’d only be allowed to see her if I didn’t lead her into trouble. After that, I’d wait outside for Addy to come to the car. I hit every schedule they set in the fear that one missed curfew would make them rip her away from me.

“Thank you, Maria,” I say, turning my awkward smile on Gary. “I’ll let Addy get you two settled, and I’ll see you at the rehearsal tomorrow.”

I turn to leave, nausea churning at the reminder of all the things I’ve stripped from Addy over the years. I’m almost to the end of the hallway when Addy calls to me.

“You’ll think about what we talked about?”

There’s no need to think about anything. I already know what I need to do.

My tears start falling before the door of my hotel room swings shut. I can hardly see the screen of my phone, but somehow navigate to the name I need. It rings a handful of times before he picks up.

“How’s my girl?”

“Vaughn,” I choke out through the sobs. “I fucked up.”

Chapter 29

OWEN

I’ve been to a lot of weddings. With a family the size of a football team, there’s always a next event on the horizon. Someone’s wedding or a big anniversary party or first birthday party. I may live six hundred miles away, but the Ellises show up for each other.

But through dozens of weddings, this is the first time I’m excited for a rehearsal.

It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since Thea left my room, but I’m itching to see her, to maybe sneak her away for a kiss. She shot me a text last night saying she had some things to take care of and couldn’t come out with the family, and I almost canceled and went to her room instead.

I was in the kitchen all morning getting the final coat of buttercream perfect. I wish Thea could have been with me, even though I knew this wasn’t something she could help with. Even without her there, it was fun, and I breathed a sigh of relief when I looked over the work. The cake is going to be perfect. All we’ll have to do tomorrow is assemble and decorate it.

Then I went to Mom. She was still in bed with the curtains drawn when I reached her, exactly as she’d been when I checked on her the night before. I apologized and pleaded and finally got her to agree to come to the rehearsal. It’s temporary, a way to get us through the wedding until we can have an honest conversation, but it still feels wrong—a betrayal of myself—in a way it didn’t before.

I can feel the moment Thea steps onto the lawn, and when my eyes find her, the air is sucked from my lungs. She’s so beautiful it hurts, in a lavender dress that flows down around her knees, swishing with each step as she walks. Her curls are loose, the wind blowing them away from her face, and I want to gather them up in my hands, to twist one around my finger and tug, just to see it bounce back into place.

Her eyes skate to me, then jump away, back to Addy who is walking by her side, talking animatedly to a couple I don’t recognize. That’s when I clock the emotion on Thea’s face. She’s smiling, but the closer she gets, the more I can see the cracks in the facade. These must be Addy’s adoptive parents—the ones who chose not to keep Thea—and I instantly hate them.

Introductions are made and we run through the rehearsal without any issues, except for the fact that Thea won’t look at me, but I doubt Aunt Dawn would consider that a wedding-related emergency.

When the two of us walk back up the aisle behind Harrison and Addy, I whisper, “Everything okay?”

Thea nods, but it’s stiff. “Just a big day.”

Something’s wrong, but I don’t know what it could be. Yesterday, we were in bed together, talking about the future. I want to pull her away, but Addy stays plastered to her side.

The small group of us from the rehearsal make our way to the ballroom where the party is in full swing. It’s ridiculous. We’re practically having two receptions, but the Ellises never say no to a party.

Cousins and aunts flood Addy and Thea as they walk in, all reaching for a piece of them. I keep my eyes on Thea the whole time, looking for an opportunity to talk. But before I can, Gabriel’s voice rings through the ballroom.

“There’s our star. We’ve been subjecting you all to Roy’s singing for long enough. Thea, get your ass up here.”

Aunt Ximena calls out, “Watch your language, mijo,” and his bandmates tease him while Thea squeezes through the crowd.

I make my way through the buffet line to distract from the overwhelming frustration of not getting Thea alone, then sit at a table near the back, watching her laugh and sing on the stage as they cover song after song. She doesn’t look at me, like I’m another stranger in the crowd, too unimportant to warrant a glance. My blood’s boiling in my veins, and I’m fighting against the urge to rush up onto the stage myself and drag her away, to lock her up until I get an explanation.

“Okay, y’all, we’re mixing it up. This one’s for you Swifties,” Gabriel says.

Thea gives him a nod, stepping up to the microphone as the opening bars of “Cruel Summer” ring through the speakers. They play it in a lower key, and the verse is perfect for Thea’s voice, deep and sultry like the song she sang at the bar that’s forever burned into my memory. She’s up against the stand, clutching the microphone between both hands as she brings her head close. There’s something so intimate about the way she sings this one, the straight line of her lips and seriousness in her eyes. The tune shifts, pushing the top of her range, but she follows the melody as it flows into the chorus. She owns this crowd. She owns me, but that’s nothing new.